Elegy: The 169th Hunger Games (SYOT Open)
by BulletproofReed
Summary: One will live to hear the fanfare of victory. Twenty-three will be reduced to merely a line in an elegy. This is the 169th Hunger Games. SYOT closed (thank you)!
1. The Maestro

**Celia Aurelius Emble**

 **President of Panem**

 _ **15 October, Year 168**_

* * *

"So you've returned to your old stomping ground?"

I can still feel it. The feeling of playing on stage, all of us tuning, the percussionists being annoying. I remember the feeling when the audience applauded us, the elation that makes you want to dance into the night. But I can't do that anymore. The President cannot afford to be seen in an orchestra or a band. So I'm just paying a visit to the Concert Hall, being shown around by an enthusiastic owner. Goodness knows I've been bored enough recently.

"Yeah."

I still have my trombone in my mansion. Every day I wish to play it, but what use is it if it's not in front of an audience? I can't help it. I love performing. That's probably why I went into politics. I dislike politics, honestly. At least with music, everyone can agree on something.

"Shall I leave you to it?"

"That would be wonderful. Thank you."

The owner all but skips out the door. Even when my face was on _You Can Trombone Too_ , I never had anyone skipping out of the room when I'm there. Being President is kind of cool sometimes.

Sometimes I wish everything was as easy as music. My Gamemakers are ripping themselves apart trying to find a good arena for next Hunger Games. Apparently replacing that one guy wasn't the brightest idea. Everyone seems to be pissed that Second Mutt Director was kicked out and replaced with someone slightly more competent. At least I know that North's good at trumpet. Okay, that may be favouritism. I don't care anymore.

Then I have an idea.

I have Atelina on speed dial. She's the only one in that team I can truly trust. Which is why she's Head Gamemaker. I was supposed to meet with her today to discuss arena ideas, but I cancelled in favour of something interesting. She's probably happy to have the morning to herself too.

"Vanguard?"

"Madam President."

"I found a way to make our lives easier. Meet me at the café across from the concert hall."

"Oh no."

* * *

 **Hey guys it's a music-themed SYOT that's significantly worse than the other ones! Please submit anyway, that would be cool. The form link is on my profile (yes, it's one of THOSE ones) so please submit some people! Just don't recycle tributes.**

- **Reed**


	2. The City And The Seaside

**Atelina Vanguard**

 **Head Gamemaker**

 ** _15 October, Year 168_**

* * *

I'm not going to lie. This year, my team kind of sucks.

Well, Taro's there, I guess. He's my boyfriend, so I shouldn't be too hard on him. But honestly, for all his team building skills, he's not too creative. Which is probably why I got the Head Gamemaker position over him.

His friend North has hair that would fit an angsty teenager. He is the only person I know who would rock frosted tips after Year 145. He works, I guess, but often is distracted by Sailor. God, Sailor's annoying. Then there's my childhood friend Patrick, who Sailor drags in with him. And Ristretto, with a stupid name and stupider ideas. I guess Orchid's okay, she's just too much of a mouse to make her ideas heard.

And don't get me started on the others…

Last year was, well, meh. Boring, Predictable. District Seven guy with an axe, some District Two arsehole with a sword straight-up cutting him open, all that jazz. Alliance betrayal. The cameras love that. It's an open secret that Two train. And One. And Seven too, but the half-tribute probably didn't show up to any lessons. I've been told it's pretty chill over there. Well, as chill as an district breeding axe-murderers can be.

I used to think that the Games were pretty cool. Like, a spectacle. A travelling carnival. The few friends I had threw raucous parties during the Bloodbaths. I always attended, of course. I did always think the Games were interesting. So there I was, on the fast-track to becoming the youngest Head Gamemaker in fifty years.

And now I'm here. Twenty three years old, and freaking screwed. My team's young too. And the stylists and mentors and escorts. The government's younger too. Emble herself is only forty. It's the Rise Of The Youth, according to an analyst I'm not a fan of. The elderly are dying faster, and for some reason the generation of our parents produced a metric fuckton of kids. We're taking over. And maybe that's a good thing.

Well, it would be better if I wasn't on the brink of being the youngest _executed_ Head Gamemaker. Maybe that's just me.

But I'm not here to dwell on the past. I'm here to fix my future. I don't think my team realises it, but the death toll for the Games can exceed twenty-three. Emble is fairly chill, compared to say, Snow from a century ago. That's probably why my head's still attached to my body.

And despite their shitty work ethics, I don't want my team to die. Like, obviously I don't want Taro dead, or his throat ripped out. I think Sailor's kind of into Orchid, and besides, he's fun to hang out with sometimes. Etty is basically the Games barista, so we can't kill him. And Patrick and North are my bros. I don't want any of them gone. I wish I could say the same about their work.

My phone is buzzing. It's Emble. It has to be Emble. She cancelled our usual Gamemaker-President meeting today for whatever reason. Knowing her, probably waxing poetic on the past or something equally pretentious. But now she's calling me.

This can't be good.

Obviously, she has a different opinion on this situation. She's inspired, she says, rejuvenated. Excited. She explains her plan at length to me, starting with the arena idea. I can feel my face growing more and more red. Oh no. This is bad. This is really bad. I cannot do this.

And she keeps going. She has a firm idea of what should be in the Cornucopia, what has to be in the arena. Maybe s _he_ should be the Head Gamemaker and execute herself if she screws up.

Fuck, I'm going to die.

"I trust you will help me make Panem sing again? This means a lot to me, as you know."

"Uh, yeah, that's great and all, but Madam President?"

"Yes?"

"I'm tone deaf."

* * *

 **Misty Semaphore**

 **Victor of the 163rd Hunger Games**

 _ **16 February, Year 169**_

* * *

Another year, another batch of tributes. Yay me.

Of course, I'm being a bit of a hypocrite. I did volunteer once. And yes, I did hack three kids apart. But I prefer not to think about that.

Antheia Sinclair, the leader of sorts of the Four victors, always calls us to her house for lemonade a month before the Games. Hers is widely regarded the best in the Victor's Village. It was the house that Finnick Odair and Annie Cresta, and even longer ago Abbey Cloud. It was natural that Anthy got that house. The Capitol News Network played clips of her best moments for a solid month after her victory. I only got, like, a day.

But that's off topic. Antheia Sinclair invites us to her house for lemonade every year, we stuff our faces with cookies too, and all is good until Keto spikes the lemonade. Well, it's not just that. It's never just that, is it? We speak about the best two our Academy has to offer, and how they'll fare. And maybe use Anthy's contacts a little too recklessly.

Four's been doing pretty well lately, so there are eight of us Four victors in Anthy's backyard, swinging on her seemingly infinite porch swings. Annanova Peters is a Three victor, but she tags along to most of these lemonade outings because she's good friends with Anthy. Plus we all know her tributes are never threats. Anna herself was the only tribute in a long while to conform to that "smart robot girl" stereotype.

"What's taking Anthy so long?" inquires Avalon. She has a point. Our head victor's been in the kitchen for a long time.

" _This_ was taking Anthy so long," interrupts the legend herself, gesturing to a bowl of bright pink juice. "Pink lemonade?"

All I can think of is when she slashed the Seven boy, pants soaked to the knees, and his blood ran into the river.

The lemonade is particularly delicious though. For all her gruesome kills, Anthy's known as basically the DIY Housewife of the Victors. Except she's single.

"Well, the Academy candidates are looking pretty good this year," she starts, "So we're going to need to assign mentors. Due to some new rule or other, their identities are confidential until nine o'clock Reaping day. Ava, since you only won recently, you'll be out of the running to mentor the girl."

She honestly looks relieved. Ava isn't one of the more bloodthirsty victors.

"So, Misty, you're going to have to mentor the girl. I'll supervise, of course."

Somehow, I'm not surprised. Anthy seems to have stepped back from mentoring as of late. Plus Minna is pregnant, so it would just be kind of mean to have her mentor.

 _It's kind of mean to put kids into the Hunger Games, but here we are._

That still doesn't mean I'm happy about it. Usually our guys are capable enough to not break down in tears after volunteering or heading into the first day. But I am going to have to field a shitload of phone calls. I'll barely get any sleep in the Capitol. And I'm going to have nightmares about this mystery girl for years to come if she doesn't succeed.

"I'm mentoring too," adds Anna from the floor. She lowers her voice. "Not that it helps. I'm trying my best to get permission for an Academy…"

The garden falls silent. Even Keto stops talking.

"Trained tributes know what they're getting into. I don't want to watch any more little kids die."

* * *

 **Aaaand here's another prologue.**

 **I'll probably post a few more just for exposition and fun stuff like that before we get to the reapings. I've received four forms already and they're looking pretty awesome! Keep the submissions coming! Some males and NB characters would be nice to have.**

 **i promise the actual tribute chapters will be longer i'm so sorry**

 **-Reed**


	3. Centre Stage

**Eulalia Pheme**

 **Member of the Society Of Escorts**

 _ **31 December, Year 168**_

* * *

"It's the day, folks! The thirtieth annual Escort Reaping!"

As much as I want to thunderously applaud Ellington Trinket-McGillivray, the Senior Escort to end all Senior Escorts, I clap daintily, like a lady. Like an escort. I've worked hard for this position and it might just be my name coming out of that ball today.

I joined the Society as soon as I could, when I first graduated high school. I did want to go to finishing school, but the appeal of being an Escort was too big. Who wouldn't want to travel around the Capitol and maybe even the districts, serving Panem and looking capital-F Fabulous while doing it?

I mean, it's certainly better than being a Peacekeeper.

But I suppose some people just aren't cut out for escorting. There was one escort wannabe who walked like a RebelDroid in one of those Captain Capitol movies. And one who acted like a District Twelve miner who'd never seen a roast duck in his life.

"Now, before we begin, I'd like to say a few words for newcomers about the Escort Reaping," Ellington continues, "This is the first time we're being aired on Hello Capitol, after all. Good morning, Panem!"

The crowd claps daintily too, cheering out encouragements approved by the Escort Handbook. As much fun as it would be, the Escort Society is not just tea and cupcakes. It's being the very best Capitol citizen you can be, and maybe even being rewarded with the chance to see the Hunger Games up close. And everyone knows this.

"So, we've been doing this for a while now to add a little more excitement to the Hunger Games! President Rogers, Panem rest his soul, allowed us to do this thirty years ago, and, well, look where we are now! The rules are simple. Any member of the Society of Escorts may enter their name into the Reaping. Tesserae is earnt by doing your job particularly well up until a week before the Reaping. Then, the other Senior Escorts and I pick fifty escorts for the final draw, whose names will be kept secret."

I smile. Being an escort is quite fun. We've expanded from just doing the Games to being all over the Capitol, promoting things, starring in advertisements, assisting at social events, it's all rather fun. I know I've got a lot of brownie points with the Seniors with the elegant way I handled the Naiad Maybel situation. That's still being talked about six months later, and poor Naiad will never be able to show her face at any event worth anything. I know she's dying to be at the Reaping today, and I don't blame her. It's the most exciting thing an escort can dream of.

"Now, let's get started!" cheers Ellington. He's ineligible, being a Senior, but in his glory days he was the best escort around. Hence why he's drawing the names. "And may the odds be ever in your favour! District One, district of luxury! The lucky escort is… Fidelian Fanning!"

Lian runs to the stage happily. I've seen him at a few meetings, he seems cool. And District One is one of the best places an escort can be, with all those jewels and stuff. Maybe I'll escort there some day and one of the pretty volunteers can give me a diamond.

"District Two, district of masonry! Their escort this year is… Calliope Rose!"

Callie seems excited too. The Two tributes are always excited and happy. Those tributes are the most fun to watch.

It continues this way for quite some time, with Meleri Lavana being reaped for Three and Rainbow Love being reaped for Four. I don't know any of them personally, but I do quite like Rainbow's suit. It looks to be a Lace Greensberg original.

"District Five, district of energy! The lucky escort is… Euterpe Fraser!"

My heart skips a beat as Euterpe calmly walks to the stage. She's a friend of mine, and I'm usually paired with her for escort workshops. However, I don't really know her that well yet. I'll ask her to tea if I get reaped.

"District Six, district of transport! Their escort is… Eulalia Pheme!"

I guess I should book that café then.

 _Ohmygoshohmygoshyesyesyesyesyesyesyes! I've been REAPED! Yay!_

This is the greatest day of my life. Truly. Even better than that day in high school when that cute boy ripped the principal's wig off. My dream's finally become true. Reaping is an amazing experience. I wouldn't give it up for Panem.

I walk to the stage, making sure to follow the Etiquette Rules set by the instructors in my fourth year. We can't have an escort tripping over themselves, now can we? _Ohmygoshthisisreallyhappening!_

I shake Ellington's hand with a ladylike smile, and take a seat on a chair marked Six. Right next to Euterpe.

Soon, I'm joined by Tiburon Wayke, who was drawn for Seven but I know he really wanted Four, and then Rhine Stevens for Eight. Goldine Sherbet is reaped for Nine, and Quinn Concordia for Ten. The ceremony concludes with Ryllia Macintosh for Eleven and Fire Blitzon for Twelve. I can see the disappointed faces in the crowds of my escort buddies. I don't blame them.

"People of Panem, these are a few of the best escorts we have to offer," exclaims Ellington to the cheering crowd, "And I'm positive that they will represent their assigned districts with pride."

Oh, we will. Sure, it might be a little easier for Lian and Callie, but I can make this work. Six is cute. All model trains and rolling hills, probably. Full of little cute people who paint pretty pictures and are constantly happy. One might even be able to call Six picturesque.

I catch Euterpe's eye, and smile. She tucks a strand long, midnight blue hair behind her ear, and smiles back. She's not wearing any lipstick, she's one of those lucky ducks who have a perfect natural smile. Her black dress twinkles in the lights of the stage, it's a little dark for an occasion like this, but it looks good on her.

I bet escorting will look just as good.

* * *

 **Penina Galena**

 **Victor of the 157th Hunger Games**

 _ **1 January, Year 169**_

* * *

The Victor's Fine Wine Banquet was wild last night. Many of my fellow Victors had a little too much fine wine. They laughed at me for not drinking. I laughed at them this morning when they complained about their hangovers.

The show must go on, motherfuckers.

I've heard the rumours about me. _Penina's an evil bitch! Penina once killed a man for looking at them funny! Oh, Penina was sixteen, and killed seven in their games!_ First of all, I killed _nine._ Watch the tapes, dumbass. I suppose all my male victims did look at me oddly. With fear, perhaps. But I won't dispute the face that I'm an evil bitch. It's kind of my whole angle. And I don't care about them.

Even our oldest victor, Adulaia Addison, is out cold. She always was one for liquor. Sweet Panem, I watched the tapes, and the look on her face was priceless when she realised her arena was a _vineyard._ But my arena, with that sparkling river and emerald hills and towering mountains and colourful tents, was way cooler.

But that's irrelevant. The point is, Laia's likely going to be unconscious for the next few hours. That's just the way she drinks. And goodness knows I'm the best One mentor but she still tells me absolutely nothing. I'm the Deadly Dandelion-Haired Dagger-Wielding Demigirl Demigod, for Panem's sake! Don't keep stuff from me!

So I'm not hesitating. Not today. Laia will never know. I fish a piece of intricately folded paper out of her pocket, and opening it up. It's all scribbly, and I don't recognise the handwriting. _Mentors for the 169th Games._ This should be interesting.

My name's up first. Of course it is. I'm the only victor that isn't washed-up or incompetent. The Academy girl we have our eye on seems like a capable enough tribute. Chrysaor Aurell is the male mentor. It seems like he won only yesterday, but his Golden Warrior days are already far behind him.

Oh my gosh. It's the entire list. Every mentor for every district. My eyes light up. I've hit the motherload.

I'm pleased to see that Saber Kent's going to be mentoring the District Two girl. She's one of the few Victor I know who knows how to really live. Everyone else just _survives_. We won back to back Games, and we became fast friends at her Victory Tour. She's my best friend and we're going to raise hell in the Capitol. Her partner is Aristaios Tiber. How very boring.

I'll admit to wanting to party with Annanova Peters. She seems pretty cool, but Careers don't associate with the Districts. And I don't think they like us trained kids either. Her partner's some sad sob who won a Games several years earlier with nerdy stuff. Sure, that's how Anna won, but at least she did it with _style._

I hang out with Keto Jenkins sometimes. He's okay, he's fun and all but not as awesome to be around as Saber. Plus his hair is a sad mop of black, kind of like a brooding teenager. That said, if he asks me to hit a Capitol pub, I'll oblige and drag Saber along. Sharing the fun around and _drinking more responsibly than Adulaia fucking Addison._ Misty, with her famously beautiful brown skin and black hair, is a little too responsible for my liking, but occasionally she'll let loose.

The Five boy is beneath me. Tillie Mercier was good in her games, but is an utter bore to hang out with. She has boring brown hair and boring brown eyes. I don't know if you've picked this up, but I find her boring.

You'd think the Six mentors would be more fun considering the district's booming drug production, but no, they have to be uptight and strict. I bet they tell their tributes to run away from the Cornucopia and tuck themselves into bed with a glass of warm milk at six thirty.

District Seven is interesting. Demeter's legendary, her games were right before mine. She was the first ever Seven career, the girl with hair as white as snow and an axe almost as sharp and well used as my wit. The first ever Seven tribute that didn't suck. But she doesn't like me for whatever reason. The male mentor is some guy who was before Demeter's games. He's old, he's sad, he's everything I never want to be.

Eight and Nine are unremarkable. I suppose I shouldn't expect too much from Sweatshop City and the Grain Gang. Ten almost falls into this category, but I did challenge Fleecy Malley to a sword fight once. They did pretty well, I guess. Eleven and Twelve are boring too.

What a list. I suppose I should put it back in Adulaia's pocket, but that's no fun. I toss it out the window and watch the wind carry it away. That's too deep for me.

I'll get some more dye, my signature bright yellow of course, and bleach that away. No one wants to go skin deep. I don't want to go back before the Games. Volunteering was the best thing that had ever happened to me. I was an excited squirt, sixteen years old, and yet I still had the sense to make the most of my Games.

Annanova raged. Demeter stood stony-faced. Tillie cried. Fleecy fainted. Even Saber volunteered with a lack of any excitement. But I knew what I was going in for. And the country loved me as soon as I first dyed my hair and strutted onto the stage in my sparkly tuxedo. None of those munchkins from the Outer Districts even stood a chance.

Volunteering for the Hunger Games was an amazing experience, and I wouldn't give it up for Panem.

* * *

 **ack Penina's last bit was really horrible but ok**

 **I only have five submissions so far! If anyone's willing to submit, it'll be greatly appreciated. I have a lot planned for this story, and I can't get it off the ground without your help.** **With that said, what are your thoughts on Eulalia and Penina? Note that Penina is not a reliable narrator so if anyone wants the mentor list, PM me.** **I got a bit headcanon-y with the Escorts, but I think this would be a thing they would do.**

 **Please leave a review if you have the time! It makes my day to see reviews and submissions for something I've worked extremely hard on.**

 **Stay cool,**

 **Reed**


	4. Kids Don't Care For Rules: D1 Intros

_"Now the old king is dead, long live the king!_

* * *

 **Jazz Strongheart**

 **District One Male**

 **15 December, Year 168**

* * *

Ella Paraiba is a stuck-up talentless piece of trash.

The instructors only love her because her brother is the Academy's top pick for tribute. Alex Paraiba is the number one pick for this year's volunteer, and she loves him to death. That's stupid. If your family's dishonourable, you need to leave them. Dishonour is contagious.

And I should know. Jewelia deserved to die, that one-trick pony.

Of course, unlike Jewelia, I'm in all the highest-ranked classes for my age. I'm not a piece of crap. Ella is too, but I bet even she struggles to keep up with me. She uses butterfly knives, after all. Even though she dual-wields, those tiny things are nothing compared to my fists. With weapons like mine, being Top Boy comes too easily.

Life's pretty good right now, I think. The Academy is great, I'm acing all my exams. Well, not the actual school ones. They're for nerds like Lionel Smith. And the best part?

It's December. In the last week before break, it's utter chaos and I love it. Because this week is Fight Week. Everyone thinks it's their week, but they're wrong. That includes Ella. Fight Week is my time to shine.

I've smashed my way through half the Under 14 fixtures already. Everyone else uses twirly swords and dinky knives, but I have something solid and useful. It's natural that I come out on top. I've never lost any fight since the first day I stepped into the Academy. Today, I'm going to obliterate everyone in my path.

And my first opponent is Ella Paraiba.

I step into the Academy, an enormous smile on my face. Not many people are usually here this early, but it's Fight Week, so of course it's absolutely packed. I can feel the excitement in the air. Good. They'll cheer super loud when I win the overall competition on Friday.

The instructors have to wheel in extra stands from the District Stadium so everyone can sit and watch the fights in the gym. Miss Galena is probably already laying the mats down and making jokes to Headmistress Addison. Then racks and racks of our best weapons will be wheeled in. That's the best part. All the weapons I'm usually allowed to use in training are blunt and horrible. These ones will sing as I wield them.

I see Ella training with some other nerd, her ponytail flying as she wields her knives. She's probably doing a lot of things wrong, but I don't notice. I've never wasted any precious time on butterfly knives plus I'm likely blinded by my burning hatred for her.

Ella flicks the knives, the blades disappearing as the handles trap them, and tucks them into her belt. They're a marbled blue and purple with silver accents, too artisan for the Academy to afford. Of course she'd have her own knives with her. This is the one week of the year she's allowed to use them in the Academy.

They look like flimsy, twirly things I could split with my bare hands. Maybe I'll do that in our match. Now that would be hilarious.

"Students, report to the gym for our first fixture," blares the intercom suddenly, making me jump.

I push my perfect hair back, and make my way towards the gym. I'm important, so it's imperative that I get there first. It feels great to push everyone else aside and see the look in their eyes, especially Lionel Smith. If the seas do not part for me, I'll make them.

When the weakling students are comfortably in their seats, Headmistress Addison strides out to the mats, microphone in hand. She's wearing an ugly blazer that makes her look old. I hear she was smoking hot when she won, but now she's just an old lady.

"Welcome everyone, to the third day of Fight Week!" she announces, to thunderous applause. "Some of our most talented and noble recruits are here to showcase what they've learned to the whole school. The overall Champion Boy and Champion Girl from the Over 16s will be honoured at the next One Conference."

I can feel everyone's eyes drift to Amilie St. Germain and Alex Paraiba a few seats down from me. Apparently they're the best in the year. What fakes. At least they'll have someone skilled to stare at when I turn sixteen.

"Now, after the first block of duels are finished, you are allowed to get food from the trucks around the Academy. You can mess around a little, but make sure to get back for the next block. There will be consequences. Now, for the first round, Amilie St. Germain versus Quartz Martin."

The two girls begin fighting. They're both sword users, so of course the fight is bland as heck. I would voluntarily snap Quartz Martin's neck, but the Academy doesn't recognise real talent. Quartz is easy anyway. Amilie easily disarms her without any of the cool stuff.

I don't even bother paying attention to the other meatheads fighting. Ella, that nerd, never looks away. I have standards. She just learns whatever comes her way. And that's about to be her downfall.

"And for our next match, Jazz Strongheart versus Ella Paraiba. Students, take the stage."

I smile widely and wave as I step onto the mats. I gesture for an assistant to hand me a club, and he obliges. Ella raises her eyebrows, and flicks open her knives.

"Begin."

I march forward, club in hands, and swing it in her direction. Ella ducks. Dammit! She slashes towards my thigh, but I step out of the way.  
"You think you can beat me? You swing like a girl!"

I laugh at my joke. It's funny because Ella is a girl. She's weak like one too.

I hit the ground suddenly, Ella pressing her knife to my throat. This isn't meant to happen! Ella swings like a _girl!_

"Shouldn't have said that, Strongheart."

Ella steps off me and tucks her knife back into her belt. She remains silent as the trainers commend her on her not-so-well-earned victory. Prude.

The next thing I know, Alex Paraiba is offering me a hand up and a drink. That stuck up prick has the audacity to even _try_ patronising me as if I have no skill whatsoever.

I spit in his hand. We'll see who's the loved volunteer when the Reaping draws near.

* * *

 _All of it seems to be the same to me, but if it's not, then can you please explain?_

* * *

 **Luna Artemia**

 **District One Female**

 **15 December, Year 168**

* * *

 _District One Brilliance Academy_

 _Training and Educator's Portal_

 _Last Updated: 15/12/69_

 _TO: GALENA, Penina_

 _FROM: ADDISON, Adulaia_

 _Girls Training_

Hi Penny,

As Head Of Senior Girls Division, I think your choice to nominate Amilie St. Germain for our volunteer next year is a good decision. She is overwhelmingly capable with conventional weapons and survival skills, and I believe she will represent us well in Games 169. She didn't do too tell in the intelligence test, but her scores in other areas were so excellent it balances out. I'll touch base with Chrysaor regarding that Alex Paraiba boy. He's only sixteen, after all.

But that's not why I emailed you. This is in regards to a girl who will be joining the Senior Girls next year by the name of Luna Artemia. She's a special case, and I feel like you need to be alerted of her and what you might have to deal with while teaching her.

Luna's from the orphanage, and seems to not be capable of advanced communication. She does not do well in school, and has next to no friends. The only reason we haven't let her go yet is because she shows overwhelming proficiency in climbing and wielding a naginata. I've attached her case file, write back soon and tell me your thoughts.

Regards,

Headmistress Adulaia Addison

Victor of the 125th Hunger Games

* * *

 _TO: ADDISON, Adulaia_

 _FROM: GALENA, Penina_

 _Re: Girls Training_

Hey Headmistress,

Luna seems pretty unstable. But she's definitely better than me at the naginata. And Addy, you know I can't climb for shit.

I ran into her in the hall. She seemed like a sweet girl, but totally out of it. I sat in in one of the Junior classes once and she looked like she just chugged down a can of Capitol Energy. Kind of like a feral cat. Did you get that impression?

I'll be able to handle her. No problem.

Penina Galena

~Victor and all-around badass~

* * *

 _TO: GALENA, Penina_

 _FROM: ADDISON, Adulaia_

 _Penny, change your signature_

Morning Penny,

You can't talk about Luna chugging a Capitol Energy. You know you were the reason coffee took up more of our budget than weaponry before you graduated.

But I spoke to Chrysaor. If he can handle Alex Paraiba and his constant partying in the Games next year, you can handle one feral kid. The little Paraiba is probably going to volunteer in a few years anyway if you want someone more responsible.

I'll see you at the Graduation Ceremony.

Regards,

Headmistess Adulaia Addison

Victor of the 125th Hunger Games

* * *

I'm not too sure what a Capitol Energy is. Likely some kind of lightbulb.

I know they were talking about me, as if I was a little sick kitten. Well, I've always liked cats. I consider knocking over Miss Addison's computer just to prove that point, but decide it would be too petty. It's a miracle I even got into her inbox. Maybe she just does not believe in security.

I hear footsteps outside. _Oh no._

I didn't put a chair against the door like I did when I snuck into Matron's room when I was little. That'll only make her suspect that someone's in there more. I slam the off button on the computer, and pull off my gloves, shoving them under the fancy carpet. I'll hope no one steps there.

Now I need to find someplace to hide. I always thought tablecloths were useless. Maybe not, the fancy large thing draped over the table is enough to cover me. I scoot under the table. Hopefully she won't find me.

The door creaks open. I don't want to be found. Not at all. I'm just going about my break, but Miss Galena and Miss Addison scare me.

The footsteps come into the room slowly, like a cat. I like cats. Cats wouldn't get in trouble if they're found. They can just claw and jump, and if they die they always have eight more lives. But I am not a cat. So I stay under the table even though my body is screaming for me to _run, run, run._

I hear a small chuckle, and I bring my knees to my chest. The table's low against my head, and it hurts. I hope I don't knock anything off.

The chuckle gets louder, and I can hear paper rustling. I think there was a stack on the desk.

Then the door creaks, and I exhale. But I can't bring myself to leave the room yet.

It seems like ages until I feel safe to walk out again. But maybe I'm wrong. My teachers tell me I'm wrong a lot and I never seem to be top of the class. But that is not sneaking into Miss Addison's room and hiding under the table. I think I'm quite good at that.

Now I think I might go back home. I climb out from under the desk, and leave the room. I need a good night's sleep.

* * *

 **In case it wasn't clear, Luna opened Adulaia's computer and read her emails. The first three sections of her POV are emails from Penina and Adulaia and the last is her POV.**

 **So, this is the District 1 pair, Jazz and Luna, submitted by BDD15 and DefoNotAFangirl! They're not your typical One tributes and it's going to piss all the mentors off.**

 **I'm doing intros for all the characters, and then I'll do a different POV for the reaping overview. It'll be needed because of the situation in One.**

 **What were your thoughts on Jazz and Luna? The Academy? The format I used for Luna's POV?**

 **Next up will be Two if I can get a male submission in time or Nine if I don't. Please keep submitting, I have some really cool ideas for this story that I want to share! Thank you to everyone who has already submitted, I value your contributions greatly.**

 **See you next time!**

 **-Reed**


	5. Pressure Can Transform You: D2 Intros

_So here I stand and then again I say, I'm hoping we can make some wishes outta airplanes_

* * *

 **Anna Schumacher**

 **District Two Female**

 **December 20, Year 168**

* * *

It's the Juniors' last day of training before winter break. I miss winter break. Now that we're seniors we get _one_ day off. And these little kids get to build snowmen and have fun. I miss that.

But at least due to the Training Buddy program, I get to hang out with and help the little kids more. My parents don't exactly like it, they think it'll _interrupt my training._ But they won't pull me out if I don't mention it too much, and I can train any other day. And these kids are _so cute!_

Instructor Harmon walks through the door with a huge smile, and all the kids run to sit down. I don't see Instructor Harmon smile too much, but I guess being with the Juniors for once can really warm his heart. He's holding an enormous box of training weapons, which must mean…

"Hunger Games Day!"

Everyone cheers. Man, I used to love Hunger Games Day. The senior classes never do that anymore. We all would go outside and lie on our stomachs in a circle while the instructors scattered fake weapons all across the oval. They'd dump the then half-full box in the middle of the circle and tell us when we could go grab stuff. One hit, you're out. Simple. Easy. _And hella fun._

This is a good day to be a Training Buddy.

"Now, I know you guys all know the rules of Hunger Games Day, but I'm going to ask Assistant Anna up here to help us out. Now, Anna, what's your favourite weapon?"

"That's easy, Instructor Harmon. A dagger!"

Harmon then proceeds to explain all the rules, and field some questions from some slightly confused kids. I know that everyone else is mad that the questions are taking up so much time. I used to be like that too. But they have the whole day to play at Hunger Games. It's chill for them.

"So can I trust you guys to go to the normal spot and prepare?" asks Harmon, getting a cheer in response, "I'll be right with you, I just have to speak to Assistant Anna for a second."

The kids file out the door, chatting and giggling excitedly. Harmon tosses the foam dagger we used back into the box, and turns back around to face me.

"How are you finding the senior classes, Anna? I know you only recently joined."

"They're great, thanks! I feel like I've really improved my technique."

"That's good to hear," he replies, "Have you decided what technique you want to do focus classes on next year?"  
"Oh, definitely sais. Or any kind of dagger. They're efficient, and if I go into the Games I know many different ways to fight with them already."

"Good. Everything going okay in general? I noticed some differences between you outside of formal training and you when you're actually in class. You're a promising girl, Anna."

"Nope. My life is great."

"Good. Now let's put the weapons in place."

We walk out, and surprisingly, everyone's in position to start. I guess the new training regimen truly is effective on these guys. Harmon grabs a handful of foam daggers, and throws them into the air.

"I love a good knife fight."

I pull the only foam bokken out from the bottom, and lean it against a pillar. From the angle of the group and position of the pillar, they won't be able to find it unless they look really hard. I can't wait to see them fight over this. I remember grabbing this same bokken when I was a little kid and knocking my friends Dante and Max over. It was hilarious.

I grab two plastic bows and a quiver full of suction-cup arrows, and place them on opposite sides of the circle. Then there's a bunch of rubber axes, both single and double-bladed, and I make sure to hide them really well. Those things _hurt!_

"Okay, Anna, I think this is good. Can you run and put the box in the middle?"

I nod, and he hands the box to me. Two daggers, one single-bladed axe, one bow and quiver, foam brass knuckles ( _foam knuckles?)_ and inexplicably, a flying disc. I guess they wanted to simulate chakrams, but only about five people in the entire Academy use those. Plus I think being hit by a flying disc might actually be worse than one of those damn rubber axes.

But that's irrelevant. We're all set. I place the box in the centre of the circle, then run out to join Instructor Harmon.

"Starting positions, everyone. Legs down on the floor," he addresses the class, "This is Hunger Games Day. Find a weapon and use your training. If you get hit, go back into class. Happy Hunger Games, and may the odds be ever in your favour. Anna, would you like to do the honours."

"Thanks, Instructor Harmon. Hunger Games Day begins …now!"

Everyone jumps up, and just about everyone runs towards the box. Six weapons and thirty hyperactive eight year olds. This can't end well.

At least fifteen kids go back to the classroom dejectedly. Rookie mistakes. One didn't look out for the axe when they were reaching for the knuckles, and the axe-wielder tripped over _and fell on the flying disc._ I hope for that poor kid's sake that no one saw that.

The game continues. Someone grabs the bokken and proceeds to absolutely destroy everyone. I guess that redhead with the flying disc did put up a pretty good fight though. Easy. Simple. And Bokken Kid must be really happy.

Soon they'll grow up. Soon they'll know a million ways to murder and _love it,_ just like me. That bokken is going to be a real sword.

But they're just kids now. I go over, and congratulate the winner of Hunger Games Day.

* * *

 _Who are you to tell me, tell me who to, to be, to be?_

* * *

 **Superior Montgomery**

 **District Two Male**

 **March 19, Year 169.**

* * *

"How do you feel about going into the Hunger Games, Superior?"

Bad. I feel bad about going into the Hunger Games.

"I think it would be great, Headmaster!"

Well, fuck my life.

"Good. Superior, your test results are well, superior," says Headmaster Tiber ( _sigh_ ). "Your aim and accuracy with your bow is the best in the Academy. You're strong and capable, and I think you're smart enough to get out. You're the best chance we have."

"Thank you, Headmaster," I reply, trying not to punch him in the face, "If you don't mind my asking, who will volunteer with me?"

"Not sure. At this point, it's probably going to be Agatha Less. Dismissed."

"Thank you, Headmaster. I will make the district proud."

I don't mean that, of course. I mean, I kind of like Two. We have nice mountains, my friends and I sometimes watch the sunset from them. It's pretty, and we always have enough to eat. I could do a lot worse.

My father's the only reason I'm going into the Games. I want to avoid them, but Father won't rest until Montgomery becomes a rich and influential Victor's family. The lazy prick won't lift a finger to become rich and famous, mind you. He's just going to send me in. And honestly, if I die in there I guess I'll never have to see him again.

But I won't think of that now. It's only a matter of time before that's all I can think about, and I want to make the most of my time with the only people who don't think I'm a piece of crap.

I throw open the door, and Honor, Kyanite and Atalanta are there waiting with smiles. Ampere, my boyfriend, even somehow managed to get back into the Academy to see me. He graduated last year with average marks.

"How did it go?" asked Honor.

"I'm going in. Quick, kill me now, save Agatha Less the trouble."

"Oh, Aggie's too weak for that," laughs Kyanite, "But seriously, Eri, I'm sorry."

"Let's get your mind off it," says Atalanta, dragging me outside, "To the mountains!"

"As long as we're home for dinner," Honor adds, "we won't be in trouble. So don't worry about that."

"But traini-"

"No buts, Superior. You're getting out of here."

"Typical Two, Lanny," replies Amp, "But you're right. I don't want to spend another second in this place."

We run into the cool evening air, so different from the halls of the Academy. The mountain we usually hang out on is quite close, so we don't have to walk far. All my limbs ache from training, so I can't wait to finally sit down.

We eventually reach a ledge, and sit down. Honor pulls out a box of crackers, undoubtedly stolen when our father wasn't looking, and places them in the middle.

"I bet Capitol sunsets aren't nearly as good as ours," comments Atalanta.

"I'll send you a letter," I reply, "But what about District Four? They have beaches and shit."

Lanny shrugs. "Possibly."

She's right. The sunsets here are beautiful. Well, maybe not down at the Academy, or the Markets. And it's certainly not good through the tiny window of my bedroom. But the mountains seem to make everything better.

I have an idea.

"Kyan, catch!"

I rummage around in my backpack for my notebook, and toss it in Kyan's direction. Kyan catches, and opens it to the bookmarked page. They raise an eyebrow, then smile.

"I thought you were too busy training to write anything new!"

"I am. But I wrote this out while waiting for my duel fixture. You think you can improv a little?"

"Yeah. My teacher says I can sing a lot better now."

Amp knows what we're about to do, and is already tuning his guitar. It's a bit bashed up, but at least it stays in tune. Most of the time. If I get home, I'll buy him a shiny new one.

"What key, Kyan?"

"I think this would sound nice in D major."

I have no idea what they're talking about. I just write stuff, I don't know anything about music. The only thing I really do is train. Maybe in a perfect world, I'd write songs, and Kyan and Amp could play them to Panem.

"Ready?"

Amp nods, and starts to play a few chords. After a few seconds, Kyan's rich voice fills the air, breathing life into whatever angsty crap I have scribbled in my notebook. Ky's considered one of the musical prodigies of our grade, and I can see, well, hear why.

I lean my head on Amp's shoulder, and listen to music we all made. I can forget about everything else, my father, the Games, my failure. But I don't want to forget this moment.

 _The stars are out tonight  
And I'm just a little worried  
But I look towards the mountains  
And somehow I'll carry on_

 _You can't control me  
You can't tell me what to do  
Yet here I am, moving the mountains  
With the hate I have for you_

 _And I know that someday, when I die  
I'll go with the mountains in my eyes_

* * *

 **Hey it's the D2 Reapings!**

 **Thank you to MRKenn for Anna and 20 for Superior! Like many others, these are two very layered tributes and more will be revealed about them in the Pre-Games. Every tribute will get two Pre-Games POVs, so a total of 3 POVs before the Games begin.  
**  
 **I have received a lot of submissions recently, thank you all so much! Just a few more slots, then we'll be ready to go!  
**  
 **What were your thoughts on Anna and Superior? How far do you think they'll go? Leave constructive criticism in the reviews if you have any!**

 **-Reed**


	6. Family Matters: D3 Intros

_Everything about myself just makes me wanna scream_

* * *

 **Alethio Tenultra**

 **District 3 Male**

 **17 March, Year 169**

* * *

Is it that hard to be quiet for two seconds?

Well, that's a bit mean. I love my siblings. But since my parents practically live at the district database, I've pretty much been entirely in charge of them for six years. Whatever. I don't miss school.

And it's not like all of them are here. Sciena is… well, who knows where Sciena is? But I know for a fact that Bita isn't here anymore. It's pretty hard to forget the image of your sister hanging from a noose in the square. I didn't know we even did that any more.

My life would be a lot different at school. All my old peers are studying for exams and reprogramming computers and stuff. I don't even know what I'll do once I age out of the Reaping. Maybe I'll just stay in this house forever as my siblings grow up. Maybe Sciena will come back. But I doubt that very much.

"Hey, stop fighting!"

Tron, Troy and Trow are triplets. Triple trouble, if you ask me. Troy's dumb as a doornail but we still love him, Tron is practically a boy genius, and Trow is the coolest kid in school. Their teachers must hate them.

"Trow stole my book," groans Troy.

"You were actually studying?"

"Yeah!"

"Fine. Trow, give him back his book. And you need to study too. Don't want to end up like me. Be like Watt."

Watt's a year younger than them, so this is a low blow. He's the quietest. He gives me the least trouble. He studies, and he does well. If all my other siblings were like Watt, my job would be much easier.

Albert is next. He can be a bit of a jerk sometimes. A short jerk. But usually he has our little sister Deena to keep him in check. She's a lifesaver. Then Edin the comedian, and little Foster. Well, he's not so little anymore. He's nine.

I guess it was kind of hard at first taking care of so many little kids back when I was twelve. I mean, Foster was practically still a toddler. But it wasn't like I really had a choice. Besides, I'm used to it now. I might even sometimes be able to relax.

"Okay everyone, time for school! Out!"

The triplets barrel out of the door, laughing and joking. I can guarantee that one of them forgot something. Sure enough, Troy runs back in to retrieve the book he fought so hard for before. Kids these days. He goes down the fire escape, the metal stairs clattering with each step.

Deana herds Albert, Edin, and Foster out the door with a few harsh words, and slams it behind her. She chose to go out the regular one. Now everyone's gone.

Honestly, I don't think my parents thought this through. They pulled me out of school so I could constantly care for my siblings, yet they themselves are at school half the time. It seems rather unfair. But I guess I would have quit school early anyway, I had no friends and stuck out like a sore thumb. Of course it doesn't help that we're albino.

I guess I should clean up a little. Especially since the triplets made breakfast today. They're the least functional fifteen year olds I know, and it endlessly surprises me that they haven't lost several limbs yet. But at least they can cook.

It's easy to clean the kitchen. Mostly because our kitchen is quite small, just a sink, a stove, and a few cabinets. They fell down in the summer of 160 and in the rare moments Sciena was home, she spent a lot of time fixing them up. I miss her sometimes. But knowing my sister, she's never coming back.

I'm interrupted by our phone, an old, rattling thing we only have because of a safety rule, ringing loudly. I guess it beats cleaning, even if talking to strangers is anathema to me.

"Hello, is this the Tenultra residence?"

"Y-yes?"

"Deana and Albert got into a fight today."

"Deana?"

I'm actually surprised. I don't know if the principal has the right siblings. Like, Deana's the most responsible person I know. Granted, I don't know a lot of people, but still! She wouldn't get into fights.

"Yes, Mr Tenultra. She was tugging on your brother's arm to pull him away."

"That, uh, that doesn't seem fair. You see, if a tree falls in an empty forest and no one… you know, never mind, uh, I don't know where I was going with this."

"That's okay. If you don't mind my asking, why did your parents pull you out of school?"

Oh crap. She knows it's me.

"How do you, uh, remember me?"

"With all due respect, your older sister was one of the smartest students we've had, and you weren't half bad either."

"Uh, illness."

"Very well. I'm sending Deana and Albert home. Best wishes, Mr Tenultra."

"You too, Headmistress."

I hang up.

Soon, Deana and Albert have the decency to quietly enter and go to their rooms without making too much fuss. I sink down onto the ratty couch and take a moment to think. That phone call was… jarring. In so many ways.

"Alethio?"

I sigh. "Yes, Albert?"

"Never mind.."

"Fine."

My brother turns on his heel and runs back to his room. He doesn't seem to be worried about a thing, lucky child. Everyone will remember him and take care of him as long as he lives.

And I still can't believe that after all that time, someone remembers me.

* * *

 _And I'm on my way to believing_

* * *

 **Vesper Odhran**

 **District 3 Female**

 **12 June, Year 169**

* * *

"Guys, take a look at this!"

Elsa presses a few buttons, and the tiny car zooms across the room, nearly bumping into Carmen's feet. It flips and turns, and still the tiny toy llama attached to the top stays intact. Elsa smiles, and flips a switch. The car leaps up onto the desk, and stops right in front of my notebook.

"That's actually really impressive," I say, "But we kind of have to focus on the topic at hand."

When we meet here every Tuesday, we always try to get work done. Debates are every few weeks, and due to our busy schedules, we can't meet any other day. So we have to work, work, work in order to have a coherent case by the night of the debate. And usually that works out well for us.

"What's the topic again?" asks Crest, "Like, exact wording."

"Inter-district travel should be more freely permitted in Panem," replies Adella, "We're affirmative, so that's good."

"Yeah," agrees Ruby, "I'm surprised they even managed to get this topic past the censors, but I'm happy about it."

"That's good to hear," I say, "Elsa, do you want to speak in this debate?"

"Nah, Vi, you go. I spoke in the last one."

Crest, Carmen, Adella, and Ruby are all pretty flexible speaking role-wise, so they share the roles of first and second speaker amongst themselves. But Elsa and I were born for third speaker. We can both hold our own in rebuttal, and since our speeches are pretty much impromptu, that's an important skill to have. Elsa knocked it out of the park in our last debate, and I'm confident I can do so in this one.

"Thank you. Now, I personally think this is a good idea. It'll contribute to a happier nation, more jobs, and increased interest in cultures of other districts."

"Well said, Vesper," says Carmen, "I'll take the happier nation and culture points, as I'm first speaker for this debate. Ruby, you need another point for your speech though."

"A united nation works better together and it'll lead to more diverse job opportunities for newer generations. Like, you can't really be a jewellery maker in Twelve."

"You might need to work on that wording a bit," I reply, "But that's a really solid point."

"Thank you."

The rest of the debating meeting goes on in this vein. Elsa, Crest and I work on potential points we may need to rebut, Ruby and Carmen write their speeches, and Adella researches for citations. We're an efficient team, and I definitely believe we have what it takes to win the competition. It's definitely a step up from when Adella and Elsa screamed at each other every meeting. Now they're best friends.

Soon enough, it's time to go home. And I'm not really complaining. I love debating and all, but I have a lot of assignments to get started on, and that doesn't include the speeches I have to write for other competitions. And of course, I need time to pray. No matter how insane my workload gets, religion comes first. Always.

I live in what everyone calls the Mansion District, even though it's only a few large houses and more regular-sized ones. I think that says a lot about the economic state of our district. But with a few smart investments, my long-dead ancestors in the Dark Days managed to save our family from that. We have a big house, and opportunities. A big house that I'm extremely thankful for, but is still quite far away from the school.

But I don't mind. The walk is long, and if I'm lucky a few cats will be around to make me smile. The summer heat hasn't come in full force yet, so evenings are still nice. It's the little things.

The paint on our house is peeling, and yellow flakes dot the hedges outside. What with everything that's happened, Saleh hasn't had time to repaint it. Our house is too big and it would take too much time. Besides, it still looks nice enough.

I pull the key out of my pocket, and slide it into the lock. It's always hard to open the old door, no one's repaired it since Saleh was little, so you have to jiggle the key if you have any hope of getting inside.

"Vi? Is that you?"

The door swings open, and Saleh is standing there. He's still in his work shirt, miraculously perfectly ironed, but his hair's a mess. He doesn't have one of the more physically taxing jobs in the district, as the mayor's secretary, but I know it's still hard on him.

'Yeah. I didn't know you'd be back so early."

"Well, I am," he replies. "How was debating?"

"It's coming along okay. The actual thing is on the 20th, so we still have time to get ready."

"Two days after the reaping, huh?"

"Yeah. But I'm not too worried, I didn't take out any tesserae. How was work?

"Well, I still have to deal with Mayor Biltmore's remarks," answers Saleh, "He's getting steadily worse. Let us pray that this is all over soon."

"I agree. He's a corrupt pig."

Saleh smiles tiredly, placing his bag of bread rolls on the kitchen counter. "Look at the time, Vi, we should pray soon."

So Saleh and I go our separate ways to wash and dress in nice clothes for prayer. I'll wear Mother's scarf, the one with roses she always loved. There are no mosques, and no muezzin to call us to prayer in Panem, like the stories our parents told us of a time before the districts. We must keep time ourselves.

Sure, I might just be a little girl in a scarf with two dead parents and a sister who's joined them too soon, but that doesn't really matter, does it? God is always beside me and Saleh and that's enough. Sure, it's not good that we're the only Odhrans left, but that's okay. We are conscious of His presence, and He shows us the way.

And that's all we really need.

* * *

 **And we're back with District Three! Thank you to santiago . poncini 20 (gotta love the link-deleting program) for Alethio and LordShiro for Vesper!**

 **In case it wasn't clear, Vesper is Muslim. Being non-religious myself, I'm not really sure how to write religious characters, even though I have done research. If anyone tells me I'm writing something wrong in regards to that, I'm happy to edit the chapter.**

 **Also, I'm extremely happy to say that Elegy is now closed! Thank you for all your amazing submissions, and enjoy the ride!**

 **What were your thoughts on Alethio and Vesper? How might they fare against the Careers we've seen? Who is your favourite tribute so far?**

 **See you next time with the D4 Reapings!**

 **\- Reed**


End file.
